


Fever

by placentalmammal



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Blue Balls, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boone misreads the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

They'd stretched their bedrolls out, side-by-side in an abandoned house, same as they did every night. Six found a jar of white lightning in the kitchen, underneath the sink. They sat cross-legged on their blankets, passing the jar back and forth. The liquor sapped the tension from his muscles and loosened his tongue; he found himself joking, sharing stories. Six laughed along with him, cheeks flushed, her smile easy and sure. The nighttime cold settled in around them; he could see her nipples through her thin shirt and his cock perked up, eager and willing despite the alcohol running through his veins.

He wasn't really listening to himself when he said, "I love you."

Six was silent, her expression unreadable in the dim light. For the first time since he'd met her, she had nothing to say, and silence stretched out between them. After a moment, she opened her mouth the speak.

"You like me," she said, her tone even and measured. Six spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable, pronouncing every consonant. There was no trace of her accent left in her voice, and despite the darkness, he could see her mouth clearly, the way her lips shaped the words, the deft movement of her tongue. He shut his eyes and he could see those lips wrapped around his cock, practically feel her tongue moving over his slit, lapping up his precum while she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him deep.

His dick throbbed.

"Christ, Six, of course I do," he said hoarsely. His voice was strange and distant to his own ears, echoing queerly in the small, dark space. "You know what you do to me. You been _teasing_ me, fucking every man between here and Boulder. _Christ_." He leaned back against the wall, fixing her with a sad-eyed, hound dog look.

Twin fires burned high in his cheeks, and the hand he extended to her didn't feel like one of his own. He stroked her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw with his knuckles. She remained perfectly still, even when he kissed her.

She tasted like moonshine and tobacco, sweet and heady, and she didn't resist when he pushed his tongue into her mouth. Every part of him ached for her. He wanted her hot, sweet mouth and her dripping cunt and her long, probing fingers. He wanted her on her knees in the dirt and he wanted her on top, riding him with her head thrown back and his name on those fat, sensual lips.

Fumbling, his hands caught in her hair and pinched her brown nipples. He was clumsy in his drunkenness, but eager to feel her body against his. He was physically ill with lust; his cock was an iron bar and his balls were two shriveled stones. He needed her like air, like medicine

Boone kissed her breathless. He broke the kiss and leaned away, his heart pounding in his throat. He reached out for her again, meaning to take her wrist and guide her hand to his chest, but his fingers closed around empty air. His mind was moving too slow, he couldn't process her absence. Six had scrambled backwards, away from him. She'd swung her pack around and put it between them, a makeshift wall.

"Six?" he said, confused, moving to follow her.

In a flash, she'd pulled her knife clear of its sheath. "Back off," she hissed.

He froze, and his hard-on turned into a fist. He said her name again, low and plaintive, a question.

"I fuck a couple caravaners so you think I'll roll over for you like a bitch in heat?" she snarled, teeth bared. "Fuck off, I ain't your whore."

"That's not what I meant at all," he said, dumbfounded, his arousal cooling. "I thought you were--"

"Easy?"

"No! Shit Six, I thought you wanted me."

"So you just grab my tits, hope I'm amenable."

"I'm sorry," he said, deeply miserable. "I should've said something--"

"Should've asked, more like," she said tartly, sliding the knife back into the sheath. "You can't just assume shit. I ain't flattered and you ain't my type. S'what I was going to say before you stuck your tongue down my throat."

His ears burned, a heat entirely unrelated to his earlier lust. "Sorry," he repeated.

"I'm going to sleep over here," she said, dragging her bedroll to the far side of the small room. "You stay on your side. And you keep your _pinche_ hands to yourself or I'll cut them off myself, hand to God."

"Yes'm," he muttered.

With a final flare, she laid down, back to him. Her breathing turned slow and easy; she was asleep in minutes. Boone lay awake much longer, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and ignoring his swollen, aching dick.

 _Serves you right_ , he thought irritably, rolling over and punching his pillow.


End file.
